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Showing posts from April, 2015

River Tam unleashed.

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Princess Willow and the Enormous Difficult Feeling.

Once upon a time, a long, long time ago. (or was it just yesterday) in a land far, far away. (or was it just next door.) there was a little girl called Willow. Now Willow was a Princess, because all little girls in fairy tales are princesses. The kingdom wasn’t very big, and the Royal Purse (not a real purse, its just a way of saying, the money the King and Queen had to spend) did not extend to extravagances such as tiaras, or fine robes. Although the queen did have a small crown that she wore on special occasions. So although Willow was a Princess, she wasn't really any different to you. Kingdoms usually (but not always) have a King, and this one did, and he was a good King, he didn‘t want to make his kingdom bigger, or fight any wars, and so got on well with all the neighbouring kings and queens. Both the King and the Queen were very proud of Princess Willow. One day something happened, and Princess Willow had a feeling about the thing that happened. Not an ordinary feeling, bu…

If you Want the Crown, All you Have to do Is Come and Get it.

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Snixat's Disguise.

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A sneak preview of artwork from, The UFO in my Garden Part 5.


Postponed operation.

Yesterday my surgery, was postponed.
Am I disappointed, am I relieved?

I'd charged and topped up my phone, Tablet too
Stopped eating and drinking as instructed.
I Checked I had all my money and cards.
Bought new underwear, my little bag packed.

Cleaned the kitchen, nothing straining to do,
For when I got back home, all bruised and stitched.

Set off on time, caught my bus to the station.
Caught my train, cursed First wi-fy,  cos it failed.
Got off the train, got numbers for taxies,
So I could return in comfort chauffeured.

Appointment 3:30, the letter said,
Be 15 minutes early it added.

Surely saying 3:15, would've made sense.
But I arrived on time, sat and waited.
And the time it ticked on, and came and went.
And I still sat and my thumbs I twiddled.

To be fair at 10 minutes past the time,
A Nurse came and asked, for me, by my name.

Telling me Another patients problem,
means I must attend at another time.
So with no other functional choices,
About turn I went and set off for h…

Terraforming Titan: First Tree.

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Odd Week.

A week of puzzles and contradictions. waiting on payments owed to me, Things on hold, till the account fills yet before me, much to do I see.
A neighbour moving house, offers Items unsuited to their new home. Spare TV for games, for the kids Replaced: the table never liked gone
A three piece suite, nearly new Broken old sofa out, broken up. Satisfaction Reclaiming screws And wood for shelves to put up.
And many other items besides. But tomorrow I'm under the knife. I'll take both bus and train rides. minor surgery, no threat to life.
But strict instructions to put feet up. Wife to bring snacks and to cook tea. To bring to my sick bed coffee in a cup Hmm, Well perhaps, we will have to see.
And hope the creditors pay up at last, So that the month can run smoothly, bills get paid, till I'm back on my feet And if I'm careful perhaps a week early.
And then I can earn more to keep wolves from the door.

A Leaf on the Wind.

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I really rather liked Firefly, one of the better SF series from the time when the US TV execs were just giving up on SF in favour of the much cheaper to make reality TV. Or really pared down SF that nobody actually wanted to watch.

This is based on my favourite moment of the film Serenity. Well that's a small fib, my favourite moment is the look on the operatives face as he demands somebody fire. But that isn't as much fun to draw and paint, even digitally: so here's what has him so hot under the collar.

Because Wash's finest moment follows, there could only be one title.


The light in Gabrielle's eye.

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Dai and the Young Lord.

This story isn't one I can claim any ownership over. We might name 'anon' or 'trad' as its author. But this is my retelling of it.

Well truth be known its my retelling of my Grandfathers telling of the story.

It all takes place in south Wales. Steel workers walk to work, from their houses to the Steel Mill every day, and have for at least three generations. They use a footpath that takes the shortest rout between two points, and cuts right across the lord of the manors land. This has never caused any problems, not least because the Lord of the manor is English and has been for many generations, and rarely visits his lands in Wales.

Well one day the old lord of the manor dies, and his son John, raised in london society, educated privately, becomes the new lord, and discovering he has land in Wales decides to visit. So one day shortly after arriving in Wales, he is out riding on his horse in the evening light and he sees the burly figure of Dai, walking bold as brass…

Troll

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The troll woke up. It was rather surprised by this. It hadn't  properly woken up for 50  years. Oh it had occasionally drifted into wakefulness, noticed the changing of the planet around him, and then drifted back into deep sleep.

But this time it was really awake. He wasn't sure what had woken him up. Not much can wake a sleeping Troll  Except a good Harsh winter, which had a somewhat similar effect to that of a cold shower on a human. Though the good winters seemed to happen less often these days.

It would surprise many to know that silicon based life is much more common than people think. And nothing at all to do with magic. One day, a small arrangement of silicon molecules with a capacity to use naturally occurring electricity as an energy source, just decided it would like to continue being a small arrangement of silicon molecules with a capacity to use naturally occurring electricity. And then concluded reproduction was fun.  And the rest as they say was evolution.

The T…

Troll (Art)

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A sneak preview of art from an upcoming story, "Troll"


Dear followers and friends.

It feels beholden of me
that I should say to thee,

A thank you for visiting my page

And for your likes and
Your kind comments,

Despite my advancing age

Well I'm fifty two,
so not that old a one.

Old enough to remember
the summer of 1969.

But too young to have had any fun.

My plan for my page
is to try and entertain

Your likes tell me
You like what I do
And to such kindness,
one can only say,
A hearty well meant
thank you.

Stick with me yet,
And I'll try to go futher,
and write stories that keep you entertained

Or even paint an alluring picture
Write you a rhyme.
or play tune
And sing a song at the same time.

Now broken meter
and broken rhyme
this may be,
but I think you may see
that my efforts are
surley well meant.

So thank you followers,  friends and sharers
and that too Is
surely well meant.

Traffic Jam.

The engines of traffic jammed on the road outside,
Tick as cars, free to move, whoosh the other way.

The occasional grind of a lorry, climbing the hill
Straining in a low gear, On this sunny spring day.

As I work at my keyboard, writing and thinking.
Of how to tell stories, to be heard in the best way.

And all happens under imperceptible shadows cast,
By wispy high white clouds painted on blue sky.

And I thank the fates I am here, to hear and see,
And not trapped in a car, wishing time would fly.

Jehovah's Witnesses.

OK:  so this is an autobiographical story. Not the kind where I tell you all the details of my birth, who my grandparents were, or what mischief I got up to as a child.

No: this is just something that happened to me, when I was about 13.

 I do have to give you some background info though. My father was a Freemason, who are not such a bad bunch, despite the conspiracy theory drivel that is written about them. My experience of them (though I never became one,(which wiuld have ultimately been problematic) I just stayed a child of one.) is of a genuine, 'fraternity', A group pledged to help each other out. Now philosophically I have some problems with that idea, but Freemasonry is no more guilty of that than the average Golf Club, and certainly less guilty than political parties.

Anyhow I digress: Freemasons meet roughly monthly, and the longer someone is a member the more likely they are to become an 'officer of the lodge' which means they have some theatrical like lines …

In the shadows cast by stones in moonlight.

Still nighttime air,
Whisps of clouds
Haunt a languid moon,
Drifting.

The great silence
reaches out into darkness,

Conjuring from the human mind
Myth and faerae
Casting them
To subsist in shadow.

Vessels for
Our nostalgia,
Our fears,
Our hopes,
Our dreams.

But if somethings are born
Of mind,
Of passion,
Of thought,
Does that make them any less real?
Does that make them Any less true?

Should we raise them up,
To become things that they,
Were never meant to be?
Or as things that never were?
Or as things that never could be?

In futile hope
that
somehow
we con bestow substsnce

To our own minds.

In the shadows
Cast by stones
In Moonlight.

When I Despair.

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OK,  so it's like this: things felt a bit like I was running like mad, and not only standing still, but going backwards.  Worse still amid all the election coverage; if that were not bad enough; there is still the constant stream of reporting of evil acts done in pursuit of power. And, as is my wont, I thought I'd write a poem. Put those feelings into words. The first line was easy, "When I dispair." But then all I could think of were the words someone else had already followed them with. 
And eventually one has to bow to the inevitable, it has been said better by someone else so just quote them.
Well I went half a step further than that, I sketched a portrait too.


“When I despair, I remember that all through history the
way of truth and love have always won. There have been
tyrants and murderers, and for a time, they can seem 
invincible, but in the end, they always fall. 
Think of it always.”
M. K. Ghandi.





Geraldine desktop setting, No 12

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A stand alone version of artwork from The UFO in my Garden Part 4.

(So I don't break any group rules for the art groups I will now share this to:.) Read the story and see other art work here, Here.


If you want to read the stories and see other artwork from them, click on the UFO tag above.

The UFO in my garden. Part 4.

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Click here to read All Parts

I awoke to alien sounds of hammering from the garden, but thought hurrying to the railway station to by the paper was too much effort. I Decided to slip into the daily routine of life, working eating sleeping, serenly as all mankind has for thousands of years. There was no real reason my life should change, just because there was a UFO in my garden.

But in my garden the hammering and stirring went on as it had all night. I was worrying what interest this might attract from the neighbours. Not least Jamie, who had insatiable curiosity. It seemed the professor didn't sleep, especially when he had something to work on.

I ate breakfast, and made myself a cup of strong coffee, before walking over to the UFO sipping as I went. The area under the spaceship with my flattened beans in it, was looking overgrown, the light was reaching it through the ships cloaking device, so it was all growing, it was just restricted in which directions it could grow. To my eyes…

Snixat Deprived.

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A sneak preview of artwork for, "The UFO in my Garden, Part 4.


Blowin in the Wind

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OK so not the best sound quality, but then Dylan tends to work under most circumstances.

Sorry about the waffle intro.

Gothic Betty.

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Gothic Betty.




As far as I am aware the Betty Boop character created by Max Fleischer and Grim Natwick is public domain.

http://onellp.com/blog/no-copyright-in-betty-boop-character

Children.

Children 

Children always need,
Something from Dad,
Sometimes its hard
To make room for them,
Sometimes its hard
To make time for them,
Sometimes its hard even,
To play with them.
Just be busy,
Working for them.

But then one notices, and it all turns around

For then,
how could there not,
Be room for them,
how could there not,
Be time for them,
How could one not,
Play with them.
For they are
Life itself,
And Without them
What need
Would there be

To work.
To be,
To live.

Betty wished she had chosen more practical footwear for her hunting trip.

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Betty wished she had chosen more practical footwear for her hunting trip.




As far as I am aware the Betty Boop character created by Max Fleischer and Grim Natwick is public domain.

http://onellp.com/blog/no-copyright-in-betty-boop-character/

Winds in the mind

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Another track from my 2003 album of electronic music, 'Expansion Modification'.

Still working on providing interesting images. The clips in this video are all 'Stock Footage' available on http://www.beachfrontbroll.com an interesting collection of moving images.

Winds in the mind.

Raindance.

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Another track from my Vaults. Trying to add some interesting visuals using stock footage.

Better than Just a still anyhow.


Bakers Haiku

For bread, kneading dough,
Is really therapeutic
I think you should  know.

Betty Plays Rough

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As far as I am aware the Betty Boop character created by Max Fleischer and Grim Natwick is public domain.

http://onellp.com/blog/no-copyright-in-betty-boop-character/

Faith.

Almost everyone at the university knew he had been building the machine, no one knew what it was for. There was enormous speculation among the students about what it was.

The teaching staff were however for the most part disinterested. For most academic staff university life was too busy to worry about what was happening in other departments. All his academic and research commitments were being met, the machine was something he had funded and built in his own time, with his own money. I suppose I wasn't the only one who was curious, but it felt like I was the only one who was consumed by my curiosity.

I knew him well, a man of great faith: he attended church regularly, gave freely of his time to the work of the church. He was a man dedicated to promoting the work of the christian Freedom university. He was considered a great catch by the University authorities,  a talented physicist with a strong grounding in engineering. It was felt he leant weight to the universities academic cr…

Ready When You Are Sergeant Pembury.

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I haven't quite decided if it's Thomas Harris's writing, or Anthony Hopkins acting, which makes Hannibal Lecter, possibly the scariest movie villain of all time: it's probably a combination of both. Though the success of the character is really what makes it scary. This is a certified multiple murderer, who has no qualms about skinning a man's face to use as a mask, or killing a musician for playing badly. 
And yet at the end of the film somehow we are rooting for him as he plans to have 'Dr Chilton for dinner.' Lecter is an obnoxious murdering sociopath who we end up liking despite ourselves. So much so, he spawned 2 sequels, a prequel, and a TV series. Now that is scary.